Lancelot: Her Story by Carol Anne Douglas

Author:Carol Anne Douglas [Douglas, Carol Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780996772204
Google: MpVxjwEACAAJ
Goodreads: 27813537
Publisher: Hermoine Books
Published: 2015-11-04T03:00:00+00:00

For Lancelot, Badon was just another battle. Blood, blood, blood. Blood, death. Blood, death. But not her own. Almost numb, she lifted her sword again, and again, and yet again. She moved like one in a dream, a nightmare that would never end.

When no more Saxons attacked her, she looked about and realized that they had fled – those of them who lived, that is. Although the British bodies on the ground were many, the Saxon dead far outnumbered them.

Had her friends survived? Was Arthur alive and unhurt? That was all she could think of. Staggering through a hillside covered with as many corpses as stones and passing many soldiers as dazed as she was, Lancelot looked for the faces she most wanted to see. She steeled herself not to respond to the calls of the wounded – there were too many to help. Instead, she listened to hear whether any of the voices were her friends'.

She peered up the hill, and there, still on his white horse, was the king. Seeing Lancelot, Arthur rode to her.

She lifted her hand, "Hail, Pendragon!" she called out, as loudly as she could, though her voice faltered.

"Victory!" he cried. "The Saxons have gone to meet Woden. They won't trouble us for some time to come." His eyes glowed with triumph.

"And on our side? Who lives?" she asked. That was easier than asking who had died.

"Gawaine, Bors, Peredur, Bedwyr." He recited the names proudly. Each name made her sigh with relief. "All alive? Truly?" she choked.

"Truly." He flashed a smile at her and rode on to congratulate as many soldiers as he could. Now Lancelot could look to her own troops, count the dead and help the living. Where was Aglovale? Alive, she prayed.

Not far away, Sawyl lay, wounded but alive. She hurried towards him. Arthur turned his horse back in Lancelot's direction. "You are the one who will carry the news of our victory back to Camelot. It will take some days for the rest of the army to follow you."

"But..." Lancelot began, stunned at the thought of leaving so soon.

"You have done well today, but the fighting is over," the king said firmly. "Tomorrow morning, when you've had a rest and some food, get a fresh horse and go. Everyone at Camelot will be anxious to know what has happened."

After giving his order, he rode off.

Lancelot bent over Sawyl. The young man had a chest wound, but she had seen men with similar wounds survive. "Help me," he moaned.

"I'll see that you get to a surgeon," she promised.

As she held Sawyl’s hand and looked for someone to help him, she soon found Aglovale, who exchanged a weary smile with her. They joined every man who was able in carrying off the wounded –although there were far too many of them for the surgeons to care for anytime soon – and seeing that the dead were buried.

Night came, and she still was trying to estimate how many of her men had survived. Some of the badly wounded had died before anyone could take care of them.

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